


an intimacy of knowledge, unsought but found

by mollivanders



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Character Study, Competency, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 03:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20828459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: She knows his skill set is far more varied than others might guess, and that the Alliance is hardly calling upon his most valuable skills in his regular missions. She knows he can close up a wound with steady, neat stitches, a forced sense of calm extending to the wounded soldier. She knows he can do more than re-program any droid they come across; he can re-build any machine, given even insufficient time and resources. She’s seen the way he falls into a meditative rhythm as he tinkers with broken bits and bobs, thoughtfully navigating the path towards new life.(It’s not unlike, she knows, how he navigated her.)





	an intimacy of knowledge, unsought but found

**Author's Note:**

> For firefeufuego who prompted: "I'm really in the mood for a bit of Jyn's competence kink for Cassian (I feel like we see a lot of the other way around and there's not quite enough appreciation for Cassian's mad skillz) if that at all tickles your fancy :)" This is a little more tame than anything but still sparks of that! The Teen rating is only just barely there but just in case.

Jyn has long known there are things you question to their bones – and others, not. When it comes to Cassian, she’s found she’d rather have unexpected joys than certain predictability – and this new intimacy between them is certainly that.

(That he seems to feel the same is an unexpected joy she clings to with both hands.)

It leads her down new paths, and unfamiliar ones at that – paths of curiosity that rival any other she’s known. It’s true there are already things Jyn knows about Cassian that other people don’t. She knows he has a personal stash of caf he dips into only when he can’t take one more day of the standard rations in the canteen, and he spends as much time savoring the drink as he does preparing it. She knows he sleeps with his back to the wall, no matter where they’re bunking, and that he’ll wake up from the slightest touch to his shoulder. She knows the settings on his razor, and she knows the songs he hums in the shower.

She knows his skill set is far more varied than others might guess, and that the Alliance is hardly calling upon his most valuable skills in his regular missions. She knows he can close up a wound with steady, neat stitches, a forced sense of calm extending to the wounded soldier. She knows he can do more than re-program any droid they come across; he can re-build any machine, given even insufficient time and resources. She’s seen the way he falls into a meditative rhythm as he tinkers with broken bits and bobs, thoughtfully navigating the path towards new life.

(It’s not unlike, she knows, how he navigated her.)

+

It first comes up during a long, boring afternoon where they’re stuck back on the ship while a team of Pathfinders does reconnaissance on a very small, boring moon.

“Cassian,” she says deliberately, and waits until he locks eyes with her, “you’ve seen my file.”

It’s not a question and he arches an eyebrow at her, waiting for the rest. He’s less likely to be bored than agitated at being trapped in the ship while everyone else takes action, but Draven’s orders supersede their desire to be in the middle of everything – at least until the heat from the Empire dies down a little on _Erso_ and _Andor_, and their faces aren’t plastered over Wanted screens all over every civilized spaceport. This spaceport barely counts as such, but apparently their Scarif mugshots have made it even all the way out here.

Fortunately, Jyn is an expert at killing time in small, cramped spaces.

“You’ve seen my file,” she repeats, and props her boots up on the flight console, “but I’ve never seen yours.”

His mouth quirks in a sharp, knowing movement. If it were anyone else, the amusement might not have shown at all.

“That’s true,” he agrees, and she shrugs.

“I’m just curious,” she says, “what other hidden skills you have that the Council doesn’t know about.”

“For example?” he asks, and she grins, relaxing into the game.

“For _example_,” she asks, drumming her fingers on the armrest, “do you know how to play sabacc?”

“Of course,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. Her mistake.

“Do you know how to play it _well_?” she amends and he flushes, caught out. There are things he lies well at, and others, not so much.

(She knows that about him too well, and prays nobody else in the galaxy has a single inkling.)

“Do you?” he asks, and she nods, considering her next query and indulging simple curiosity.

“I know you know how to field dress,” she says thoughtfully – not a question – and it’s really a skill everyone in their line of work should have (they don’t). “Do you know how to cook?” She can almost picture it – his focus, precision, and the barest indulgence in life he allows himself all wrapped up in one.

“I haven’t cooked for you yet?” he asks, looking back up from the console screen’s incoming status reports from a K-2 disgruntled at being separated from Cassian and having to deal with _Pathfinders who can’t find their own rear ends_.

“Did you know how to re-program droids before K-2?” she asks, and hits upon a truth as history filters into his eyes. There’s a nervous energy bouncing around him now, seeking an outlet, and he re-focuses it on her.

“I knew how to re-program other things,” he says, and pauses. “I didn’t like the rulebook for re-programming droids.”

That, somehow, she already knew.

(She knows this – there are orders he follows – and orders he doesn’t.)

“You know how to sing,” she says, and links her hands behind her head as she takes him in. “Do you play any instruments?”

With a last quick look at the console, he locks the cockpit door and crosses over to her chair, moving her feet out of the way and leaning his hands on the armrests. The seat tilts back just enough that she’s looking up at him from an angle, her breath already coming faster, and instinctively her hands fall to his shoulders.

“I do know one,” he says. “Would you like me to show you?”

+

He has other, more visible skills – she’d rather have him at her back in a firefight than anyone else, even Baze or Chirrut – but it’s the quiet ones that draw her attention and draw her in like gravity. He has a steady center that comes from learning how people work, and being willing to work with them, that lights her up. It’s never been one of her strengths – she understands _things_ far better than _people_, and can cut her way through digital red tape faster than Han Solo with a blaster.

Still, it’s the ability to work with people you might not even like that builds rebellions, and more.

(It’s a lesson she learned from Saw, if not one he intended.)

When she tells Cassian this truth, he laughs, a soft laugh that’s half a breath as much as anything else and shines more through his eyes, a laugh that draws her to him and up to the tips of her boots, arms circling around his neck as her wild energy meets his steady center.

(The result, as always, is dynamic.)

_Finis_


End file.
